Kinkaid (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 2) (6 page)

He’d worked at any odd job he could get after he retired until he plain couldn’t anymore. He didn’t approve of being shiftless and lazy. A man should be able to take care of his family was his motto.

That day he’d passed my open door, stopped two feet down the hallway, then returned. “Well, who’s this now?”

We weren’t more than ten and had been industriously eating our way through a bag of Doritos—orange fingers and all—and working on biology homework—not the
let’s play doctor
kind, but the crap from the textbook.

“Grampa Dean, this is Sadie Grace.”

She’d dusted off her fingertips and shook his large hand.

“Well, she’s right purty, Kinkaid. Howdy there, Sadie. You staying for dinner? Or I gotta run you home?”

“Oh, I can call my mom and ask, Mr. Ryder.” Back then she’d worn her hair in straight pigtails and in those days her footwear of choice wasn’t biker boots but Converse high tops minus the laces.

“You do that, little lady.” He’d stared at me hard. “And you all keep this bedroom door open, hear?”

When I’d turned twelve he’d sat me down and talked about sex, babies, marriage, and honoring the act of lovemaking instead of
rutting like a stallion in heat
. My ears had burned. I’d mumbled “yes, sir” and “no, sir” at all the appropriate places. Then I’d gone out and bought a box of rubbers. For the next four years, I’d studied them every night, wondering how something so small could fit on something that was growing proportionally with my body.

When I’d finally screwed up the courage to try one out just for practice, I couldn’t figure out which way was right. It didn’t matter at that point. I’d already discovered the finer points of masturbating, and the thought of being inside any girl instead of my hand had been enough to shoot me off. The rubber had popped off my dick like a deflating balloon. I’d had a hell of a mess to clean up from the quilt.

Two more attempts and my first girl later, I knew exactly what I was doing.

In all those years it hadn’t mattered to me that much. I wanted sex, sure. I’d fucked a lot, of course. Willing women meant a warm place and soft breasts and the selfish, mind-obliterating bodily release.

It wouldn’t be the same with Sadie.

Once the roast had rested, I carved it in thin slices and covered it with the drippings from the pan.

Taters and veg plated up, I called through to the living room, “Dinner’s ready.”

Sadie aided Grampa to a chair. His cheeks were a little mottled, but his eyes lively, his hands less shaky, his cane only lightly tapping. Solange and I had wondered if he suffered from the early stages of Parkinson’s, but he hadn’t wanted any more tests.

“I got me this here one life, and I don’t intend to end it bein’ stuck like a pincushion while they draw blood.” He’d been adamant.

And Sadie was right. Why not let him have a few extra drinks? He’d lived his life, lived it proud. I was sure there was no finer man—jokes at my expense aside.

I poured out the wine then sat between Grampa and Sadie, the two of them conspiratorially glancing at me.

“It’s Sunday,” Grampa muttered. “Do the honors.”

Sadie grabbed my hand, squeezing it, and Grampa did the same, his large-boned knuckles popping against the thin old skin.

I lowered my head. “We give thanks for family and friends. The time we’re given on this earth. The people who love us, and who we love. Amen.”

The hushed
amen
worked around the table.

“I’d say there’s a poet in you yet, son. That was nice. Real fine of you. Raised you good, didn’t I?” His grizzled paw wrapped around mine.

“You did, Grampa.”

He snuffled into a pressed red bandana now faded to pink after years of washing, shoved it into his pocket, and pushed his plate front and center. “Y’all take the best cut, Sadie, but gimme that plump ass-end.”

I laughed. “And you still lecture me about cursing?”

“Shirrup,” he slurred, shoveling the first forkful into his mouth.

Sadie carved off a rare point of her sliced beef and slipped it between her lips. “Oh damn! This is good, Kinkaid. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

“Not from him.” I watched her savor the taste in her mouth, my own salivating for a taste of her.

One rheumy eye peered up from his roast beef—he’d made neat little squares swimming in what he called the
au juice.
“Could still tan your ass.”

“Haveta catch me first.”

“Too busy eatin’. Your girl’s right. Damn good gobbling. Compliments to the chef, son.”

The meal passed with clinks of forks and knives, with the glug of wine poured, and happy chatter flitting back and forth.

“And how’s your momma and daddy? Your brother?” Grampa asked, patting his stuffed belly.

“They’re all good. Mamma retired soon as I went off to college. Makes a girl think she was just waitin’ for me to leave the nest.” Sadie took a sip of wine.

“If ya don’t kick the hatchlings out while they’re young they’ll never leave.”

I had half a mind to
kick
Grampa under the table for that comment.

“Mind, Kinkaid bein’ my only kin, he’s done well by me. Yes, he has.” He rocked back in his chair looking me over, taking stock.

I wondered what he’d think if he knew what I really did to pay the bills and keep us afloat.

“He’s a good grandson, Grampa Dean.” Sadie scooped up the last of her gravy with a bread crust, earning a look of respect from him.

“That’s the truth of it.” More clear than cloudy, his eyes found mine.

“Shoot. We’re just two bachelors living together. Nothing to it.” I played it off, but unsaid emotions filled my chest. I didn’t know what I’d do without him.

“Reckon it’s more than that.” Grampa pushed back his chair. “What about your brother, Sadie . . .?”

I cleaned up the table, listening to her talk about her older brother Shawn, his wedding, his
Hotlanta
wife with the high-pitched voice she imitated. “I do believe she’s too good for us Charleston folk.”

Grampa hooted. “Anyone ever call us the bad cousins durin’ the War of Northern Aggression? I say. Hell no. They used to flock to Charleston like heathens to a drum. Dearie me, what’s that Shawn of yours done, gettin’ hitched to an Atlantan?”

“She ain’t yet a carpetbagger though.” Sadie shrugged, her lowcountry drawl coming out more and more as she talked to him.

“Don’t know if that’s good or not, but at least we ain’t been overrun yet.” He hobbled to his feet and punched his cane to the floor. “Scrabble, y’all? If ya care to join me in the parlor, that is.”

Sadie rose with her napkin fanned out in front of her face. “Ah do believe ah could take a turn or two, if you’ve a mind, kind sir.”

She curtsied.

Grampa cackled.

He took her arm and escorted her to the living room.

Sadie called back, “Dishes can wait, Kinkaid. Scrabble cannot.”

Tossing the sponge aside, I joined them.

The game quickly descended into seven tiles of who could play the dirtiest word at the highest count.

When Sadie took another long drink of bourbon and played
quim
I shivered from head to toe, so hard inside my pants my cock licked the zipper. My mind flashed back to the lap dance, and I wondered again just what her pussy looked like, tasted like, would feel like in the palm of my hand. How slippery she’d be if I stroked her with one finger, and pushed the tip inside.

My cheeks grew uncomfortably hot, my face tensed with the effort of hiding the sudden gut-punch of undeniable lust. I must’ve made a noise; Sadie raised her eyes and they grew wide then soft and hooded. She knew exactly what I was thinking about. She slowly licked her lips, leaving them glossy and—so help me God—juicy and pink.

“We’re gonna haveta have a rematch at a later date.” Grampa’s hand searched for his cane, and he clasped my offered elbow instead. “I’m off to bed.

“Sadie Grace. T’was a pleasure.”

She hopped to her feet and kissed his cheek. “Purely mine, sir.”

With Grampa settled in bed, nightshirt on, meds taken, and a glass of water beside him, I closed his door with a quiet snick.

Sadie bent over the board, her hair like spun gold hazing about her. She’d kicked off her high heels, and she rubbed her toes against the sole of the other foot. “I don’t know who won.”

I lifted her from the couch. “I did. With you.” I kissed her for only the second time.

Inside her mouth my tongue slicked against hers, the wet silky heat and taste detonating through my body. I fitted her closer to me, holding the nape of her neck, the curve of her hip. I groaned loudly when her fingers found my shoulders, her soft form pushing against my hard planes. A soft mewl escaped her, her teeth lightly scraping my bottom lip, the tip of her tongue stroking mine.

With a gasp, she broke away, her hands braced on my chest. “God, Kaid. This should feel strange.”

Her face was so familiar, her body brand new to me. I yanked her to me so she could feel the thick ridge of my cock. “Doesn’t though. Feels crazy right.”

Lowering her face, she rubbed her cheek against my chest, circling the hot spot between her thighs against my shaft. “Feels so good.”

I swallowed down a moan, grasping lengths of her hair in my hands, and her tongue moved to my neck, licking, her mouth sucking.

“Jesus, Sadie.”

Her eyes, half-lidded and dark blue, arched up at me. “And you look damn good tonight too.” She broke out of my embrace, her gaze roaming down my body. “You went to a lot of trouble.” She brushed her palms against my ass then squeezed and cupped as my breath stuttered out of me. “This body. Holy shit, Kinkaid. I wanted to goose you the second I saw your butt in these pants.”

“That the only thing you wanna goose?” My cock butted against the front of the pants, a long thick roll of hot hard flesh.

“Depends. Are those pants the strip-away kind?” Laughter hovered in her voice.

Maybe we could get past the stripper thing after all. I shook my head and steered the conversation toward something safer just in case I was headed into exotic dancer landmine territory again. Reaching down next to the couch, I found the little wrapped box I’d tried to give her on New Year’s Eve.

“
Ah
,” she said.

“
Mmm
,” I answered, taking a seat. “I probably should say sorry for hitting that dude. But I’m not. I was so jealous I could have happily killed him.”

“
Ah
,” she repeated.

“I still would like you to open this, Sadie.”

She sat beside me and offered me a slight smile, holding out her hand. “I wasn’t very gracious that night.”

“
Mmm
.”

“I was very pissed.”

“
Ah
.” I smirked.

She took the present and whacked me on the arm with it. Without any further comment, she peeled off the poorly wrapped paper. The present that had begun its life as a crazy quilt wrapped package looked even worse for wear now after having been smushed inside my jacket pocket then flung at me at the clubhouse.

Lifting the lid off the box, she peeked inside. “What exactly is this?”

“The money you gave me at The Gentleman’s Quarters.”

Her mouth parted but before she could start the barrage, I silenced her. “Now don’t say a word. I won’t have you paying me for what happened that night.” My eyes shifted down to the hands clenched in my lap. “The truth is I enjoyed it. A lot.”

“And you usually don’t?”

“Never. It’s not like that.” I unflexed my fingers, reaching over to pull her hand into mine.

“I liked it. A lot. Too.” Her voice dropped to breathlessness.

My gaze flicked up to her face. “You did?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

Intense sexual awareness linked us together stronger than before, forging a hot bond.

My eyes dropped to her lips. I wanted to kiss her again. “Anyway, that’s not the real present. Keep digging.”

She did, one handed so I could keep hold of the other. After sifting through the small pile of cash, she found the red envelope.

“From Holy City Tattoos!” She pulled her hand free of mine and pulled out the gift certificate.

“I know you wanted to finish your back piece.” I shrugged.

Grabbing my face, the gift certificate squashed in her hand, she kissed me quick and hard on the mouth.

“Thank you, Kaid. That’s so sweet.”

I chuckled, my lips tingling from the brief taste of hers. “Have my moments.”

“I had some added to my tattoo. Wanna see?” Sadie stood abruptly and started loosening her blouse.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She turned her back to me. “Why not? Just a little skin. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”